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John The Wolf
Once upon a time, there was a fleet of space pirate lycans… in space. Yeah. This community of individuals existed based upon a loose pack system- there were twenty four main cruisers where most of the pure-bloods remained- especially the Alphas- surrounded by a plethora of smaller, assorted vessels meant for various purposes. Some were made purely to defend or repair the cruisers while others handled some of the more trivial matters such as collecting fuel from nebulae that they passed. Such a convoy had been recording history- especially its own- for almost fifty million years, having gone through much to acquire the numbers and power that it possessed at the time. I, nor anyone that I have ever asked, knows of our origin or really even cares about it, however. We’re a people that have always looked to the future, forever turning our backs to most things once they have become a part of the past. That would lead to our undoing. I, as the child of an alpha male and a tainted beta female, didn’t receive the best treatment beyond birth and throughout the first few decades of childhood. You see, I had been born with a very, very rare condition that made it so that, in my natural form, I was unable to get a grip on many of the growls, grunts, and other aspects of communication as fast as my peers were able to- instead, I was able to make the most embarrassing noise that I have ever heard in my entire life that, to this day, causes me cry myself to sleep sometimes and, on days where I am truly lonely, wish that I had never been born- and I will attempt to show you exactly what that horribly awful sound… well, sounded like: ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARFA RF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF They called me John Lennon to mock me. Hence, ‘John The Wolf’. In my studies as a young adult, I learned much about the universe in which I existed in- I read of how we typically conquered the worlds of undeveloped, sapient races by dropping impure betas into their populations and watching the piles of corpses rise along with the number of beta wolves- once their world was ravaged, we would exterminate most of the betas in order to retrieve useful materials and resources before leaving with the strongest, most fit beta left around. While I’m on that subject, I should explain how that works. Basically, the ‘pure-blood’ lycan are creatures that have many awe-inspiring qualities- they can heal their wounds much faster than every other sentient being we’ve ever encountered, communicate without making sounds audible to most ears, manipulate common sound waves in order to damage the ears of others and, most impressive of all, shift between different forms- their most natural form bearing an appearance similar to animals from many different planets. Tainted lycans are creatures that have become lycans via the bite of a pure-blood; for reasons we have yet to decipher, lycan DNA imprints and overwrites the genetic identity of most organic creatures exposed to even insignificant amounts of it. Of course, more bites equals more proper imprinting and overwriting, thus leading to combat-able beta as opposed to the unlucky bastards that happen to just have some saliva dribbled into a wound- they end up not shifting completely and die of mass organ failure. Of course, that’s why there can’t be tainted alphas. They represent leadership and strength- you can’t have an alpha that’s unhealthy because his heart and liver won’t shift as quickly as the rest of his body, or an alpha that’s mentally traumatized from the infection and loss of all of their loved ones, or an alpha that swore revenge on the entirety of our people for doing what we had done. Only the most powerful of mind, body, and heart can lay claim to the ‘Alpha’ title that our people glorify so much! I could go on for pages upon pages with stories of my adventures and misadventures as a youngling- hell, I could write a love story spanning four books that puts Twilight to shame. Unfortunately, none of those details of ancient times are important besides the ones I’ve just told you- How did I end up on Vegeta? That’s an important and relevant question. It started when we were faced with an armed convoy similar to our own- and communications quickly led to the abandonment of peace between us two- because we had forgotten about how peaceful negotiations almost always ended up good for our people in the past. They were a much smaller group, but had superior technology- ports would open out of the sides of the hatches on their ships, and strange, white-hued creature would float out, form orbs of black-purple energy, and lob them at us while others would fire lasers that would scream through the millions of miles between us… and we weren’t able to defend well against such a sudden barrage. But we were aware that their engines were inferior to our own in both speed capabilities and fuel-power ratios thanks to our scanning equipment- so we sent out pods. Thousands upon thousands. Random coordinates set to random worlds for each pod. Orders for every beta, tainted or pure-blood; we were to attempt to land upon the world assigned to us and then, if we adapted to the conditions of the world and survived, we were to find someone strong and powerful to infect and form new convoys that would hopefully meet up together to reform into an even larger convoy- and, if that failed, survive until an Alpha found us. So I left after giving an angsty speech to my parents about how much that I hated them. I was in that pod for a nearly a dozen years, just star-gazing while I starved… that’s another thing that I should explain, I suppose. The natural life-spans of pure-bloods, and even of many beta, are immensely long. Cells constantly repair themselves and only go into natural cell death mode due to certain conditions, thus allowing us to survive for millions upon millions of years as long as we keep our bodies healthy and fit. There are many things that can kill us, but few things can manage to kill us quickly. We are the masters of evolution, and can overcome many things just by simply living with it for a while- so when a planet came into view- an orange-red blot in the black sky that beckoned like an old friend inviting me to have a drink- I already knew what I would have to be doing the second that I landed. My pod spiraled out into the side of a mountain, leaving me little time to jump out and land on my own… and I was faced with bleak nothingness. Granted, it seemed that way because my unnatural, normal form was humanoid at the time. However, as the centuries became millennia and the millennia became millions of years, I adapted to become able to exist in a world where there was little vegetation and what biological life that could be found happened to be much faster and dangerous than I was- Hence, even as the tsufurujin made themselves known from some pigmy squirrel and gradually saiyans appeared, I was a six-legged beast- large and monstrous at first, since I primarily hunted the much larger sea creatures that resided deep in Vegeta’s oceans- that you often see me as. I don’t know whether saiyans were tsufurujins that received very, very minute DNA from me and, thus, evolved into the shapeshifting war-mongers that they are nowadays or if they just came into being through some other method that has nothing to do with me- and, honestly, I didn’t care. My brain had become too simple to go into those kinds of deep thought. I merely roamed and hunted- at first, small animals. Then the large sea creatures. Then the stray, exiled tuffles. Finally, the saiyans of the caves and villages. Eventually, I regained logical and abstract thought capabilities and remembered my objective. Hence I held back on using saiyans and tuffles as prime feeding sources and waited for someone to prove their worth. Whenever people found me, I either said ‘arf arf’ or played silent and intimidated them with looks and tail wags- which, strangely, were quite effective. Kingdoms came and went. People made legends of me and then forgot about them after twenty years. I looked to the sky every night hoping to recognize a space ship of some sort apart from the stars. And this went on for a while. It had gotten to the point where saiyans and tuffles alike were willing to come to a tournament hosted by some random beast that couldn’t talk and seemingly couldn’t understand them for what I had been waiting for to come- a pure-blood Alpha. Cebta. Much younger than myself, it seems, lacking much knowledge when it comes to things such as hand-to-hand combat-… but immensely more powerful. Even in unnatural forms, his strength dwarfed mine in a way that no Oozaru or sea creature had ever been able to do. For the first time since I had parted from my people, I felt fear. From then on, I have followed his orders whilst defending myself from new creatures- metallic humanoids created by a tsufurujin woman looking to manipulate herself into power- and still looking out for that strong person who would be ‘the one’. Maybe it is Ringo. Maybe it is someone I have yet to meet. Hopefully the former. Hopefully, my age-old mission is finally over.